Author: admin

Twenty minutes had passed when Noah settled into the hard, lumpy chair next to Joe’s hospital bed—his butt was numb, and his injured leg throbbed nonstop. He ignored the ache, leaning forward to fix his gaze on Joe’s still face. “Hey, man.”
No answer.
He exhaled sharply. He’d visited every single day since the accident, yet Joe’s motionless form still hit him like a punch to the gut. When awake, Joe was always on the move—grinning, laughing, cracking jokes, the life of every room. Seeing him completely silent and still shattered Noah’s composure every time.
“Everything’s fine at home,” Noah said softly. “Joey wears your favorite Giants hat nonstop. Won’t take it off, even for bed.”
The room stayed quiet, save for the medical machines’ constant whoosh and beep keeping Joe alive. “Katie’s as tough as ever—stoic, unbreakable. She rearranged your closet three times already, and hate to break it to you, she threw out all your old socks. Even your lucky basketball pair. I tried to save ’em, but the trash crew already hauled everything away.”
He paused, forcing himself to focus on good news. “On the bright side? You’re always nagging her to check the oil on her beat-up old car that she refuses to replace. She’s finally doing it now. Every single day.”
Noah leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “She misses you so bad.”
I miss you too. “I’m doing everything I can to take care of them, to make sure they have whatever they need.” But nothing’s enough. No one can replace you.
He swallowed hard, holding back the worst truths. He didn’t tell Joe how Joey cried for his dad every night and struggled to sleep. He didn’t admit that none of them were sleeping well, that the whole family was falling apart. “Oh, and some good news: you got called for jury duty last week. You dodged it, though—lucky you, stuck here napping.”
Still no reaction.
The doctors had warned them not to expect any movement, no flicker of the eyes, no squeeze of the hand. Hearing the warning was one thing; living through the endless silence was another entirely. Noah leaned forward again, voice tight with desperation.
“Listen, man. The truth is, I’m failing Katie. I’m failing Joey. Hell, I’m failing everyone. I need you to wake up—” He froze. Had Joe’s eyelid just twitched?
He stared intently for five long minutes, but the movement never repeated itself.
A nurse appeared in the doorway. “Sir? Visiting hours are over.”
Noah locked eyes with Joe’s unresponsive face. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” He squeezed his best friend’s hand firmly.
Joe didn’t squeeze back.
Of course he didn’t. He was trapped in a coma.

Olive sank as far down into the porch swing as she could without sliding straight onto the ground, desperate to duck beneath the line of sight from the white picket fence out front.
“What on earth are you doing?” Gram questioned her.
“Playing invisible. You didn’t see a single trace of me—I’m not even here—”
“I’d beg to differ,” a male voice cut through her rambling.
That unbearably familiar tone pulled up every bright, glowing memory from the best chapters of her youth.
And every agonizing memory from the worst ones, too.
She cringed and lifted her gaze upward.
Noah stood before her, looking far too put-together for someone she’d once convinced herself had wrecked her entire life. His eyes were slitted tight, his jaw set in a harsh, rigid line, every muscle along his jawline pulled taut with tension.
“Olive Porter, in the flesh,” he said flat, zero warmth or emotion coloring his words. That meant she was twice as furious—annoyance stacked on top of raw irritation.
Though truthfully… he’d never ruined her life. She was the one who’d ruined his.
“It’s lovely to see you again,” Gram greeted him warmly. “It’s been ages since you’ve come back to town.”
Noah flipped on his most practiced, charming grin. “Adele. You look fantastic as ever.”
Gram, like nearly every woman who crossed his path, instantly fell victim to his rugged, effortless charm and broke into a bright beam. “You’re quite the smooth talker, aren’t you.” She flicked a glance over at Olive. “Is your Matt half this sweet?”
For starters, Noah had never possessed an ounce of soft sweetness in his bones. Sharp-witted, quick with a joke, thrillingly dangerous—absolutely. Sweet? Not a chance. Second, why had she ever thought inventing a fake boyfriend was a smart move? Why couldn’t she have simply admitted she didn’t need a man to complete her life? She truly didn’t, not even in the slightest. Hindsight really was a cruel curse. “Matt’s far gentler and sweeter than you’ll ever be.”
Noah only shot her a smug, taunting smirk, the infuriating man. “I need a word with you alone.”
Olive grabbed another cookie from the tray. “I’m fully occupied right now.”
But he’d already wrapped his fingers around her wrist, hauling her gently to her feet and leading her away with that uneven, strained gait of his. A sharp, twinging ache shot straight through her chest at the sight of his limp.
Stupid, traitorous heart.
She must have made some small, involuntary sound, because he glanced back over his shoulder, caught the pained flicker across her face, and his own expression hardened instantly. “Feeling sorry for me all of a sudden?”
“Not even remotely.” She bit down into the cookie she’d clung onto mid-escape.

A soft tiny mew caught Olive’s attention. Her gaze darted downward, landing on a tiny gray-white kitten fixing her with a stare, its slightly crossed pale blue eyes wide. “Hey there, little one.” She held out a hand toward the kitten, only for the tiny creature to hiss and dart back. “Tiny frame, huge attitude, huh? I’m not here to hurt you, promise.” “Maybe you are, but she definitely isn’t,” Grandma said, stepping out onto the porch with a wooden tray. “That’s a stray that wandered onto our land out of nowhere yesterday. I named her Pepper—perfect for such a feisty little spitfire.” “She’s way too skinny.” “I know. I’ve been leaving bowls of kibble and fresh water out for her, and I’m gonna feed you in a sec.” Olive turned to face Grandma and chuckled, spotting the tray piled with cold milk and chocolate chip cookies—just like their childhood afternoon rituals. Grandma gave a big grin: “I’ve always loved strays of all kinds.” Olive dipped a cookie into her milk, watching closely to get the soak just right—too short and it stays dry, too long and it turns to mush. “Is work stress getting to you? I thought you adored living in London and running your own firm.” Olive thought about it, leaning forward over her mug, only to accidentally spill milk all down her sundress. Great. “I really do love it—London’s awesome, and being my own boss is even better.” Grandma dunked her cookie flawlessly, lifting it to her mouth with zero spills. “While you’re here, I need your PR help at the local senior center. We wanna expand our facilities and need help getting funding.” “Absolutely, I’d love to help.” Grandma’s grin widened. “What about your boyfriend? His name was Ian, right? The one who got you that pretty silver bracelet.” Ian was the last person she wanted to talk about. He’d left her emotionally wrecked, with constant headaches and trust issues after cheating on a friend she thought was close. She’d bought that bracelet for herself after they split up. “I’m… seeing someone new.” “Oh, that’s awesome news,” Grandma brightened instantly. “What’s his name?” “Matt.” He’s funny, kind, loyal, has a solid job, and comes from a loving family. The catch? He’s totally made up—so he’s the perfect fake boyfriend. “He didn’t wanna come with you?” Grandma glanced at her bare ring finger. “I would’ve loved to meet him.” That’s the worst part of having a fake partner. But at least she didn’t have to answer endless questions about being single, or why she’s scared to love again. Plus, it made her life look way more put-together than it actually was, and she’d take any small win she could get. “He’s swamped with work lately, so—” “Nonsense. No one’s too busy for love. You deserve a happy, steady relationship more than anyone I know.” Olive didn’t want romance or love at all. What she craved was stability—something her messy childhood never gave her. So every romantic relationship she entered inevitably repeated the chaotic unpredictability she’d grown up around. A pickup truck rumbled up the shared driveway, stopping at the top of Katie’s side of the property. The man who got out was exactly like Olive remembered: tall, lean and muscular, dark loose curls peeking out from under a baseball cap, mirrored sunglasses masking his eyes. Once, he had a permanent easy smile, but today his jaw was tight. He shrugged his broad shoulders like he was fighting constant pain, then froze the second his gaze landed on the tiny Mini Cooper parked next to Grandma’s house. The same car that almost hit him half an hour earlier. Olive gasped and sank deep into the wooden porch swing. She held her breath as he pushed his sunglasses up to his cap, peered through the car windows, then lifted his head—zeroing in on her position, their eyes locking instantly.

Oh, and you’re crashing at our place,

Special agents Noah and Katie’s husband Joe served together in ISB— the National Park Service’s Investigative Services Branch under the U.S. Department of the Interior, based in Yosemite, three hours south of here. The two had been tracking a series of vehicle break-ins and robberies, which blew up into a brutal high-speed chase. A suspect in the fleeing car shot at them, shattering the patrol car’s windshield, blowing out two tires, and flipping the vehicle violently off the road. A helicopter airlifted Joe to a Tahoe-area hospital, where he’d been stuck in the ICU for a full week after the crash. Noah got discharged, but the medical team hadn’t cleared him to go back to work— he was still healing from multiple injuries, including a damaged right leg. That leg wound was a repeat of an old one: years ago, Olive had accidentally hit him with her car. She’d locked that memory away in a mental folder labeled “Don’t Think About This Right Now.” “How’s Joe doing?” “He’s still in a coma,” Katie said flatly. “Short answer: he’s unresponsive, stuck in an unconscious state because of damage to the brain’s ascending reticular activating system—ARAS, the part that controls wakefulness.” “He’ll make it,” Olive whispered softly. “He better. If he doesn’t wake up, I’m going straight into that coma and yank him out myself.” “I’ll help you.” “Misfits stick together.” Olive let out a soft huff of laughter, repeating the line. “Misfits stick together.” That had been their motto since she moved in with her grandma at 14, right next door to the Turners. Before that, she’d been homeschooled on a remote off-grid farm hours north of Lake Tahoe, hidden in a wilderness almost no one dared step into. She could build a raging fire in three minutes flat, but had zero clue how to talk to kids her age. Katie was just as socially awkward, making them easy targets for school bullies. As for Noah—he wasn’t an outcast or troublemaker at all—he’d reluctantly become their unofficial protector back then. “You almost here?” Katie asked. Olive glanced at the lake on her right. Its deep blue waters were so big they could swallow the entire Empire State Building. Tall pine forests climbed the mountain slopes, their treetops almost touching the thin, fluffy white clouds floating above. Just looking at the landscape calmed her racing heart. “I’m passing your library building now.” “The library? Great! You’ll be here in exactly ten and a half minutes. Don’t get lost.” Olive laughed. “It hasn’t been that long, I never get lost.” “That’s a lie! Remember your driver’s test? The DMV guy told you to turn right, but you always mix up left and right, so you swerved left instead—” “I’ve got left and right down now,” Olive joked, trying to cut the story short. But her hope was slim—Katie never let a side tangent die once she started talking. “You ended up going the wrong way on a one-way street and totally panicked. You jerked the wheel to turn right, but it wasn’t a road—just a hiking trail with No Vehicle Access signs everywhere. You failed the test right away—” “I remember every single detail.” “The examiner ended up with severe chest pains and got rushed to the hospital by ambulance—only for doctors to find it was just indigestion. He’d stuffed four hot dogs from that lakefront food shack, the one that got shut down after poisoning dozens of visitors. Remember that part?” “Vaguely,” Olive said flatly. “You made the local paper’s front page. Almost no one does that, but you did it again a few years later when—” “Let me stop you there, okay? I haven’t forgotten any of my embarrassing mistakes. I’ll see you in a couple minutes—” Her words cut off when a man stepped off the sidewalk without looking for cars. She slammed on the brakes hard, her heart jumping into panic as the rented Mini Cooper skidded to a stop just feet away from him. When he turned to face her, Olive gasped in total shock. “What’s happening?” Katie’s voice crackled through the Bluetooth. Olive’s car was crooked halfway into the crosswalk, the sharp smell of burnt rubber filling her nose. The stranger she almost hit pulled out one earbud, raised a hand to block the sun, clearly trying to see her face through the tiny rental car’s windshield. A shaky breath of relief escaped her. It was Noah Turner. He mouthed a quick sorry before walking on, his gait uneven as he clearly favored his injured right leg. “He mouths an apology?” Olive muttered to herself. “I almost had a heart attack, and all he gives me is a silent sorry—” “Who are you talking to?” “I almost ran over your brother. Again.” “He’s not gonna be happy to hear that.” Olive fought the urge to bang her head on the steering wheel. “I’m pretty sure he couldn’t recognize me through the glass, and I have no plans to tell him anything. You can’t mention this either.” “No problem,” Katie said casually. “Around here, you’re known as The One Who Shall Not Be Named.” “Excuse me?” “Shoot,” Katie muttered, then made a sound like she smacked her own forehead. “Don’t tell Olive I called her that nickname.” “Are you kidding? That’s what they call me?” “Don’t take it personal,” Katie rushed to calm her. “He’s got a whole list of off-limits topics Mom and I can’t bring up. One category is women and marriage—all women, not just you.” Olive let out a choked laugh. “Wow, that’s harsh.” “We’re also not allowed to ask when he’ll settle down and start a family. Honestly, he should’ve added matchmaking to the rulebook. Mom keeps trying to set him up with every single single woman she meets.” For the first time all day, a real smile tugged at Olive’s lips. She’d spent the whole drive dreading running into Noah, but it sounded like he was busy dodging blind dates.

Olive had three unshakable pet peeves: people who chewed with their mouths wide open, the cringey word “moist,” and sitting firmly atop the list—romantic love. Truth be told, she’d given love plenty of chances, multiple times over, and the occasional involuntary eye twitch she still carried was solid proof of how badly every attempt had left her defeated. “Your breathing sounds off,” Katie noted through the Bluetooth earpiece. “You ate something loaded with nuts again, didn’t you?” It was just another reminder of how disastrous love had turned out for her. Olive was utterly obsessed with peanuts, yet her body hated them with a deadly allergy. “Nope, I’m totally fine,” she lied into the mic, silently commending herself on mastering tiny harmless fibs. Years of refining the craft let her fool nearly everyone, even her lifelong best friend. “Honestly, I’m fantastic. One hundred percent thriving, no exaggeration.” “That’s sarcasm, isn’t it?” Katie Turner-Brooks possessed a photographic memory, could crunch complex math equations entirely in her head, and recite word-for-word conversations from years prior—but sarcasm flew straight over her head every single time. “Excuse me, that’s intentional manifestation,” Olive corrected her. “I’m genuinely trying to convince myself I’m doing great.” And halfway stop spiraling into a full panic attack, she added silently. “Then you will be.” Katie never grasped that things didn’t come so easily for Olive. As a kid, she’d been painfully awkward, desperate to fit in, and not much had shifted as an adult. She exhaled slowly, drinking in the scenery as she cruised along Lake Tahoe’s shoreline, heading toward Sunrise Cove, a tiny mountain town tucked on the north end. She fought the urge to revert back to that lonely, lost teenage girl she’d once been. “I grabbed salami, an energy drink, and a chocolate cream pie at the last gas station, if that explains my frazzled mental state.” “What’s there to stress over? Barely anyone remembers the incident where you ran over the town’s golden boy.” When Olive fell silent, Katie heaved a sigh. “And clearly I still can’t deliver a joke properly. I even read an entire book on comedy technique and everything.” “It had a tiny spark of humor. Emphasis on tiny.” Olive knew full well the whole town hadn’t forgotten her mistake. Noah Turner, the so-called town hero, wore many labels: voted most likely to achieve great things, beloved only son, Katie’s identical twin brother—and Olive’s fake high school boyfriend, let’s not overlook that detail. “Why do you care what random people think?” Katie pressed. “I don’t. I’m just worn out from never having my life fully sorted out.” “Fake it till you make it, girl,” Katie reminded her. “You were the one who told me that line once.” The flood of old memories tightened Olive’s throat, so she refocused all her attention on the landscape outside her windshield. The sky stretched blindingly bright and crystal clear; the lake water blazed an impossibly deep sapphire blue; endless pine forests blanketed the mountains, their peaks dusted with permanent snow caps. Every inch of the view brimmed with vivid, pulsing life—if it weren’t so vibrantly alive, the whole scene could’ve passed for a flawless oil painting. Katie’s voice cut through her quiet awe. “You also once said no matter how many times you break apart, you can always piece yourself back together again.” “Yeah, well, younger me had far more optimism. It’d be nice if you’d try to erase all the dumb things I’ve rambled on about over the years.” “How am I supposed to separate those from your actual meaningful words?” Olive let out a soft laugh. “Wow, that actually counted as a joke for once!” “Who said I was joking?” “Hilarious.” “Whatever.” Katie cleared her throat, shifting tone to something gentler. “I really appreciate you driving out here to help me look after little Joey. The library granted me indefinite leave, but having you around will take so much weight off my shoulders. I’ll get more time at the hospital with Joe, and it means the world to me.” “Of course I came.” Katie rarely asked anybody for assistance, even though she’d given Olive everything her own parents never could: safety, stability, unconditional acceptance. “I’m all yours, whatever you need at all.

The final bell rang, and Olive marched straight toward the beat-up old pickup truck— a gift from Noah and Katie’s grandfather for their sixteenth birthday just a few months back. The truck was supposed to be shared by the two siblings, but Katie had failed her driver’s test four times in a row and flatly refused to try again, leaving Noah as the only one allowed to drive.
By the time Olive climbed onto the worn bench seat, Noah and Katie were already settled in. A familiar scent hit her the second she took a deep breath—French fries. She’d skipped lunch that day, but it wasn’t her usual careless mistake. Earlier, Cindy and her crew cornered Katie in the hallway, shoving her roughly to her knees. Katie’s drink spilled all over, and her books and school supplies scattered across the floor. Olive immediately pushed Cindy away to defend her friend, but teachers rushed over just in time to only see Olive’s retaliation. She ended up stuck in detention because of it.
“You guys didn’t have to wait up for me,” Olive said quietly.
Katie held out a paper bag of fries toward her. “Supersized, just how you like.”
Olive’s stomach growled loudly, a clear sign of her empty stomach, yet she hesitated to take the bag. “These are pity fries, aren’t they?”
“Nope, they’re fury fries,” Katie corrected, glancing pointedly at her brother.
Olive followed Katie’s gaze to Noah. Looking at him was never a hardship, even back then. She’d never dare admit she had a massive crush on him, not to anyone, especially not him—but that didn’t stop her from admiring him from a distance. He wore his usual casual uniform: faded jeans, a plain cotton tee, and a baseball cap worn backward, with soft curls peeking out around the brim. He looked effortlessly good, far better than she’d ever be willing to acknowledge out loud.
He flashed her a faint smile, but it lacked his typical playful, mischievous warmth. His entire frame was taut with unspoken tension—no, not just tension. Anger, thick and unshakable, hummed off him in waves.
“I took care of it,” Noah said, his voice low and steady.
An uneasy twist settled in Olive’s gut. “Took care of what?”
“He went to the principal and told her exactly what happened,” Katie filled in quickly.
Olive’s eyes widened in shock. “What? You didn’t have to do that!”
“They can’t keep getting away with picking on people like this,” Noah murmured firmly.
Olive stared down at the steaming fries in the bag, her chest tight. “So they really are pity fries after all.”
“They’re thank-you fries,” Noah corrected her, his golden eyes locking onto hers. “For having Katie’s back when I couldn’t.”
The words made her chest ache sharply—for Katie, for Noah’s unwavering kindness and integrity, and most of all for herself. She’d always longed to be a true part of their tight-knit family, but her quiet crush on Noah made everything complicated. He’d permanently placed her in the friend zone, and nothing would ever change that. Instead of letting the tears burning her eyes fall, she stuffed a handful of fries into her mouth, closing her eyes to savor the salty, greasy flavor.
“We learned in science today that eating fried food like French fries is linked to depression,” Katie commented idly.
Olive kept shoveling fries into her mouth, unbothered. “I think it’s the other way around. People reach for French fries when they’re having a terrible day—so they’re the cure for depression, not the cause. And who cares if they’re fattening anyway?” She leaned back against the truck seat, continuing to eat. “Not all of us have perfectly toned abs like you do.”
Katie snickered loudly, knowing full well Noah was the only one in the truck with a flawless, athletic physique.
Noah shot her a sideways glance, silent but amused.
Olive’s face flushed instantly at her unfiltered comment. “I mean—not that I’ve noticed or anything,” she rambled awkwardly.
Katie snorted again, clearly enjoying her flustered state.
“I haven’t!” Olive insisted, but internally she knew it was a lie. If she’d been Pinocchio, her nose would’ve stretched long enough to crack the truck’s windshield.

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